


Control

by plinys



Category: Rush (2013)
Genre: Hate Sex, M/M, handjobs, sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-23
Updated: 2014-01-23
Packaged: 2018-01-09 19:05:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,268
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1149691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/plinys/pseuds/plinys
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It is May 2, 1976, and all James can think about is 1.8 fucking centimeters.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Control

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the [Rush Advent Calender.](http://rushadventcalendar.tumblr.com/)

It is May 2, 1976, and all James can think about is 1.8 fucking centimeters.

The hot May air makes his racing overalls seem a bit too much, though he couldn’t stay focus on that if he tried. He’s cursing the wind, knocking over things, desperately in need of a drink or a quick fuck. 

“Fuck that,” he says, bitterness creeping into his voice, but no, it’s more than bitterness, it is anger and aggression, something James is far too familiar with.

He wants to hit something, but he doesn’t find his opportunity until he’s stalking back through the paths by the garages, fanning off anybody that might want to talk to him and James sees him. Niki leaning against one of the brick walls, there’s the barest hint of a smirk on his lips as he turns to look at James.

Niki walks forward to meet him halfway, the little smirk never leaving his face, it’s annoying and charming at the same time, a complicated expression. James can’t quite decide how he feels about it until Niki speaks up, “good race.”

Then that decides it.

Any thought James might have had before about playing nice is gone at once where he sees that hint of arrogance in his fellow racer’s eyes.

He could feel it inside raging him, the energy coursing through his veins as he reaches out towards Niki, one hand pushing him backwards into the nearest garage and the other holding onto the back of his neck, cushioning him against the impact.

The garage is thankfully empty, though at this point James isn’t quite sure that he would have cared.

“What the hell was that,” he hisses, his voice low, but not low enough that it doesn’t echo through the space surrounding them.

“What was what,” Niki asks, though his tone betrays him.

“You’re just jealous that I won, so you get your little Italian cheats to-“

“I’m not the one who cheated,” he cuts James off with a condescending huff of breath, “you’re the one who seems to thinks that the rules don’t apply to you.”

“You and I both know that that wouldn’t have made any difference.”

“Rules are rules, James,” Niki simply replies, an eyebrow raises as if he dares James to challenge his statement.

“Rules are rules,” he mimics the tone back at him.

James wants to toss him back, push him away, and put as much distance between them as possible before he does something completely irrational.

At the same time, he wants to do something completely irrational, he wants to close the distance between them in the blink of an eye.

His hand is still gripping the back of Niki’s neck, and briefly he runs his fingers along the side of his neck, there’s something there, a shiver and a flicker of something that James knows too well in the Austrian’s eyes.

And that was all of an indication that he needs, because one second they’re glaring into each other’s eyes and the next James is surging forward toward Niki, they’re barely even pausing for breath and the hand that had been holding his head slides down over the curve of his spine.

There’s a touch of tenderness there, but it’s hidden under raw need and lust.  

This was how they’ve always worked, hot passion, rough touches, bodies shoved against walls, and hands grasping for purchase on racing overalls.

They are a quick fuck, a dirty yet passionate fuck. They were release and stress relief.

Rivals with benefits would be a good name for it, but that would imply that they didn’t care, because as much as they both loathed to admit it, as much as they hated showing weakness, they both needed this more than words could ever say.

 James has always been a firm believer in the idea that racing turns people on, the risk of death causes a stir inside of each of them, the need for contact with another human being, the need to spill out all that pent up aggression that couldn’t come out on the track.

There was something static in the air whenever they collided when hips pressed against hips in a helpless and reckless embrace.

Once James had compared it to the way they race, an endless burst of energy, a rush, with a twenty percent chance of things falling apart every time they fell into each other again.

Maybe that’s why they do it, because it felts so natural.

It’s like coming home.

As fucked up as that sounds.

“Fuck you,” Niki struggles out at some point when they’ve broken apart, and James is biting into his shoulder, the smaller man pressing up against him.

“Ah ah ah,” James replies a little breathless laugh as he runs a hand in between them to the bulge forming in the other man’s pants, “not just yet, my little ratty friend.”

It’s not just the pent up aggression that needs a release anymore, and as James reaches around to unzip Niki’s racing overalls he makes his intentions very clear. Niki’s approval comes through when he rocks his hips up against James making the task a bit more difficult, but also more pleasurable.

Once unzipped James pushes the overalls down so they lock Niki’s knees in place, and reaches forward to take Niki’s cock in his hand, which earns him a keening noise that James cuts off with a far too rough kiss.

Everything about this is rough, but they both like it that way, when James bites down on his lip bringing blood to the surfaces he hears attempts at murmured German curses, but silences them soon enough.

“You like that, you little cheat,” James breaks off from their kiss looking into eyes that are now dark and wide with want.

“You’re the cheat,” Niki says his voice a mess, still stubborn even when he’s being jerked off. He looks like he’s about to open his mouth and say something else, but when James rubs a finger over the head of his cock, Niki swallows his words his head thudding backward, hips canting towards James begging for more.

He looks absolutely wrecked beneath James’ hands, which is exactly what he had wanted.

James leans in again to kiss him savagely.

He wants that power back, the power he had on the podium that was so quickly swept out from under his feet, James needs that control and doing this gives him that control once more.

It’s one of the few ways he can make the normally calm and collected Niki Lauda squirm.

The tension builds between them, and James can tell Niki is getting close by the little gasps he makes the way he tugs at James overalls as if expecting something more. Today though this is enough, and James pulls back one last time to see Niki’s chest heaving, eyes fluttered closed, kiss swollen lips open as if asking for more.

It doesn’t take much more than that to watch him come undone, to see the cocky attitude that is normally always there fall away as e gives in to his release.

When Niki’s finally seemed to regain his senses he reaches forward to find the zipper of James’ overalls, but he catches his hands stopping him, watching as an expression of blatant confusion spreads across the Austrian’s features.

Instead of explaining he just shakes his head and says, “some other time,” before turning away and leaving the garage and Niki behind.

The race may still be in dispute, but as far as James is concerned, he at least won this.

 


End file.
